Kismet
by Andromeda Prime
Summary: He kept a list of the things he'd done in his life cycle that he'd regretted. Getting sparked by the Terror of Kaon, the gladiator Megatronus, was first on the list. Rated M for smut, slash, and mechpreg. PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END OF CHAPTER 3.
1. Grand Champion

**This blends elements of TF: Prime and IDW's **_**Autocracy **_**mini-series.**

.-.-.

The glitz and glamour of Iacon made Kaon look even worse than it already did at present.

The high buildings cut into the sky above, shimmering, smoother than a sparkling's armor and protoform. They looked like the Thirteen Primes of mythology, bearing the weight of the sky on their shoulders.

Kaon failed to inspire such comparisons. The city-state that he was unfortunate to have come to life in, on a dreary day too many stellar cycles prior on a filthy floor of a downtrodden abode, reeked of despair and death on its better days, and reeked far worse on its bad days. The smell of acrid gas escaping the ground as it was mined for whatever little bit of minerals was still in its crust after eons of extraction. Iacon was pristine and clean. Whatever that scent that hovered in the air around them was, it was most certainly not despair and death.

A thought appeared in his processor: Kaon even on its best day wouldn't hold anything against Iacon on its worst day.

He had been polished to a high sheen before he and the others had taken off on the road and after they had arrived in the outskirts of the city, and he still felt filthy compared to even the waste receptacles that dotted each intersection of these bustling, lively streets. No one paid him, paid _them, _much attention other than sparing them a few wary glances.

At least, until Barricade began with his trademark criticism.

"Yeah, just bet that most of these Iaconians have the smarts of our ol' plod Lugnut here."

"Say that again and I'll break that pretty vocalizer of yours."

"I'll let you, if you can find it."

"Enough you two," Megatronus growled without looking back, staring ahead and glaring down the tinier and lither Iaconians that dared to look at them, staring at them with widened blue optics. "You're attracting stares."

"We're attracting them even if these two aren't fighting."

Blackout was right, even though Megatronus would be loathe to admit it. The Iaconians were easily two-thirds their size, at most, and adorned in the bright, vibrant colors of the elites. Shades of whites, bright reds and blues and some shade that mirrored the color of Cybertron's sun. Yellow, was it called? He couldn't remember.

They likely hadn't seen shades of dark violet, black, and silver armor in their lifetime. And they had yet to come across anyone else that was as tall as he was.

"-'s the matter Lugnut, am I getting onto whatever passes for your processor?"

"I'm going to frag you dry against a wall and you won't be able to walk for the next ten solar cycles."

"Lugnut, Barricade, we don't need to know about your fragging life!"

Megatronus nodded absently as he was the first to duck into a nondescript, clean edifice with a large sign over it that merely read "Weapons Outfitters."

How creative. Not that he could think of anything far better.

There was a white and light grey mech two-thirds his size behind the counter of the shop, cleaning a cannon nearly half his own size. The walls of the shop had almost any and every weapon one could think of. Weapons that could be affixed to your frame, handheld blades and morningstars.

Why didn't Kaon, hotspot of combat, have one of these?

The shopkeeper eyed them sternly. Megatronus stood his ground and eyed the shopkeeper as well. Both mechs sized each other up. The smaller mech nodded at the bigger mech that could easily crush him under his pede.

"How is the weather outside?"

Megatronus smirked, the smile looking all kinds of unnatural on his hardened faceplates and paired with his stern gaze. "Cybertron's sun shines brightly on Iacon."

The shopkeeper allowed the edge of his own mouth to twitch upward as he reached behind the counter and slammed the palm of his servo on something.

The wall behind the mech folded away, exposing a dark and imposing corridor. From his point he couldn't see what direction it went. Left, right, up, or down? Then it occurred to him; they called them underground matches for a reason.

"Corridor of doom."

"You could stand to be a little more optimistic, Barricade."

"Yeah, well, after a thousand stellar cycles of dirt and gloom and disappointment," Blackout clearly saw the sideways glare Barricade gave Lugnut, "what else would you expect to be my default mood?"

Megatronus paid no attention to the exchange of words, only eyeing the shopkeeper for another moment. The mech didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't give the silver miner-turned-gladiator any mind. The shopkeeper only picked up the cannon he had been cleaning and resumed his previous, mundane task.

Even when he continued to wipe the cleaning cloth over the cannon, the dull color of it didn't seem to get any brighter.

"Are you going in?"

Prompted by Blackout's question, Megatronus strode forward until he was at the entrance to the corridor behind the shopkeeper's counter. He peeked in, and his optics adjusted to the darkness, taking in the scant bit of light that came from the bottom of the stone stairs that began their descent just a few strides away.

"Megatronus."

The silver mech looked back, searching for the unfamiliar voice that had called out to him, only to be presented with the cannon that the shopkeeper had been so busy cleaning. Well… not presented. More like had the cannon thrust into his arms.

"I'm betting my entire shop on a 75% success rate in your matches," the shopkeeper said, nodding at the gladiator. "Good luck."

Megatronus merely looked down at the cannon. It was the exact same shade of dulled grey as his armor. He then looked at the cleaning cloth in the shopkeeper's servo. He hadn't been cleaning it at all.

"What are you waiting for?" Barricade grumbled as he pushed his way past the silver mech, impatient as always. He disappeared into the dark corridor, and two brief moments later they all heard the unmistakable sounds of a bot tripping and falling down the stairs. Another moment after, they heard Barricade groan softly.

Lugnut chuckled and followed his intended, Blackout trailing behind the half-wit, as they all affectionately called him.

Megatronus fastened the cannon to his right forearm and descended behind the rest of them. The weight of the cannon brought him a strange sort of comfort and reassurance.

.-.-.

The arena was deep underground, far deeper than Megatronus could remember any of the arenas in Kaon being. It took them thrice as long as usual to walk down until they came within view of the carved-in pit surrounded by stands that could easily fit a crowd numbering in the thousands.

Even in Iacon, where the gladiatorial matches were so hidden and taboo compared to the open-air stadiums in Kaon, the arenas were so very opulent.

He wondered briefly how they would all get down here without arousing the suspicions of any passerby and authorities. Then he shrugged: they had more than enough credits to bribe law officials to look the other way. It was not any of his concern until his own life was on the line.

Across the pits Megatronus could see another entrance into the arena. He would not have noticed it if it weren't for another group of Cybertronians entering the subterranean pits through it. Most of them were about the same height as Barricade, with the same body type. One was as big as he was. The silver gladiator smirked; he had bested others in the arena twice his own size.

He knew he would do well. He was set to fight in four matches. In Kaon he could fight ten matches and only by the eighth battle would he begin to feel the least bit exhausted.

"Hey, over here!"

He'd been gazing at the pit for too long. Barricade, Blackout, and Lugnut waved to get his attention from an open doorway above the pit. He followed them into the corridor and was met with many rooms on each side, each holding a gladiator or two.

Some of them looked up and glared at him as he passed by. He looked into their optics and glared right back at them, smirking.

"Name?"

The corridor led to a large room where there were smaller mechs, painted in bright colors and most definitely _not _fighters or gladiators. One of them, two-thirds Barricade's size and decked in red and light grey, stood in front of him with a datapad in his servo.

"Who is asking?" Megatronus inquired, narrowing his blue optics.

The mech didn't look up as he said, "Sideswipe, in charge of taking roll of the registered gladiators. Name."

"Megatronus," the silver gladiator finally said with an air of finality. Sideswipe tapped on the datapad and turned to the others. "Are you registered?"

"They are not," Megatronus spoke for them. Barricade was still fuming about his fall, Lugnut lowered the intelligence quotient of everyone within listening range when he spoke, and Blackout knew to defer to the biggest mech of them all. "They are only here to watch as I conquer the arena."

"Yeah, yeah, Terror of Kaon. Back down the hall, fourth door to the right is yours."

.-.-.

In Kaon, the matches began immediately. One mech atop a pedestal shouted to start, and mechs and femmes threw themselves at each other, drawing energon and gouging optics out in the cases of non-death matches. Whomever fell to the floor first and stayed down for longer than three moments was the loser.

In the death matches… well, that was an easy one to guess.

Megatronus was frustrated when, instead of being called out to fight and prove his worth on the arena grounds, the thousands of Cybertronians in attendance got to their pedes and placed their right servos over their sparks and raised their helms to the banner that hung above the pit. The dark violet fabric bore the insignia of the High Council of Cybertron. The sight made Megatronus curl his lipplate. Swearing allegiance to the lawmakers and rulers of Cybertron? The same ones that kept him and his fellow gladiators and Kaonians in their destitute state?

No.

Never.

The silver gladiator hardened his gaze and looked away from the screen that showed what was occurring in the arena.

A sound echoed through the subterranean pit. The crowd roared, but whether in approval or some other emotion he did not know. He looked at the screen again and saw heavy metal doors lifting inside of the pit, below the spectator stands, and exposing large gladiators, one a mech with black and gold armor and a femme with striking ivory and silver colors. They rushed at each other and hit each other with deafening blows and fearsome, loud and shattering roars, swords nicking armor and spilling energon.

The crowd screamed in delight as the femme bested the mech. She stood on his back, pinning him down, one pede on the back of his helm as she shoved it into the ground and the other pede on his aft as she smiled triumphantly.

"Three!"

Megatronus saw the mech struggle against his captor, using his strength to try and get up, to get her off balance so she would fall and free him, but it didn't work. He gave a ferocious roar.

"Two!"

The femme smirked and pushed her opponent's helm further into the ground, wiggling her pede around so she smushed his faceplates in.

"One!"

A whistle sounded and a mech came into the arena, helping the femme off her captive and the crowd roared as she bowed before them. Behind her, the defeated mech scrambled to his pedes and scampered away, leaving a trail of energon dots behind.

Megatronus couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his vocalizer.

He would do better.

It seemed to take an eternity and many, many other matches before he was finally called. A yellow and light grey mech that looked strikingly similar to that red and grey mech from before (Sideswipe, was that his name?) came and led him to a room further below ground.

"Stay here and wait for the doors to open. I don't think I need to wish the Terror of Kaon any luck."

"You needn't." Megatronus fired up his cannon and steeled himself for what was to come. "For I do not believe in luck."

.-.-.

His first match was against a small mech the size of Blackout. The mech was a fierce fighter, but in the end Megatronus wound up lifting him over his helm and tossing him across the arena, and it took the mech five moments to get back to his pedes, by which time he'd lost.

The second match was against another mech the size of Lugnut. He was wide on the top and had all his power on his top half, but his lower half was a different tale. The huge mech lunged at him, but Megatronus swiped his blade low, nicking the other mech's legs and making him stumble forward. It was all too easy for the silver mech to topple him over and pin him down by his legs and waist.

The third match he won by default; the bot he was to face off against had run out of the arena in fear of him, the Terror of Kaon.

The fourth match found him against that first victor of the day, the ivory femme. She smirked at him from across the arena as the crowd roared. The final match and the two victors of the day facing off against each other, and one would be grand champion.

And he knew it would be him.

When he fought in the arena he blocked out the noises of the crowd. He had become quite a master of it. His visual field faded, and he only saw his opponent. The femme brandished her blades, the polished silver catching the light and glinting. He took it as a sign to charge. Bringing up his own blade, he roared and hurled himself forward, closing in on the femme just standing there.

He, and likely all of the gathered audience, were taken by surprise when at the last possible moment the femme moved aside and he wound up crashing into the opposite wall, the force of impact cracking the concrete. He stumbled backwards, swaying on his pedes, and a moment later found himself facefirst on the ground, a small but strong weight on his helm and on his back where his dorsal plating met his aft.

What the-?! He couldn't get up!

What was this femme doing?!

She wiggled her pede around, pushing his helm further into the ground. The crowd screamed again, and he wondered what was happening. He heard a familiar crackling charge. It dawned on him.

He wanted to roar and move to get her off-balance, but then she struck him with the energon prod right on the center of his back.

The crowd roared in delight, and he heard a loud noise that signaled his defeat.

It was only when he stood to his pedes and felt a weight on his arm that he realized that he should have fired the cannon at her first.

.-.-.

The oil house was small and out of the way, giving off the impression that no one would be there. His assumptions were incorrect, however, as when they entered through the door there were quite a few other mechs and femmes inside. They looked up at him, regarding the Kaonians warily, before going back to their own drinks.

Blackout wanted to slap some emotion other than despair into the silver mech of the group. He was getting frustrated watching Megatronus stare down at his servos with this incredibly pathetic look on his faceplates.

"Get over it!"

Barricade was bold, the mech glaring at the Terror of Kaon with narrowed optics. Blackout went and grabbed the four high-grade cubes he had ordered from the barista (who never so much as flinched when they had entered; the barista had only eyed them and sternly told them, "Same warning I give to everyone who comes in; you start a fight or offline someone and we're kicking you out") and headed back to the table only to find Megatronus, shockingly, still staring at the tabletop and not throttling Barricade.

"Barricade's right. You still tied for grand champion and you didn't make the shopkeeper lose his weapons place."

"But I wanted to be grand champion, you afts-for-helms." Megatronus grabbed a cube and downed it in one go. "I practiced and practiced, put many of the other miners back in Kaon out of their misery with promises that I would fight for them, only for _this _to happen? Me? The Terror of Kaon, beaten at his own game?! I wanted that title of grand champion. That, and nothing less."

It was silent around the table, but not around the oil house; other bots talked and laughed about their days, ignoring the stewing gladiator and his exasperated group in their midst.

.-.-.

He'd walked the span of the building enough times that he could trek through it with his optics covered and not bump into anything.

Any_one_, however, was a bit of a different story. He didn't know he was headed for a crash until he ran into a mech smaller than he and they both toppled to the floor quite ungracefully, datapads flying everywhere and the onlookers coming in to make sure they were both alright.

Somewhere in another room, he heard Rodimus laughing.

"'ey, watch yourself Orion!"

Orion Pax groaned as he felt around and gathered up his datapads, tucking them away in his subspace when he skimmed his optics over them and noticed it wasn't the one he'd been using. "I'm very sorry Jazz. I was immersed in my reading."

"Could see that." The cultural investigator fixed his crooked visor and nodded at the pile of datapads in his friend's arms. "Wha' were ya readin'?"

"A report on reported illegal gladiatorial matches in Kaon." Orion looked up and he arched an optic ridge at the white mech. "Funny, all that. There were an increased number of reports of matches for the past twenty stellar-cycles, then suddenly," he turned the datapad around to show to Jazz, showing the graph that steadily climbed higher and higher until, "a huge decrease."

"Huh. Maybe the gladiators got hold of the snitches an' snuff'd them all out?"

"I'm not sure, but I've lost interest. If you want," Orion tossed the pad to the other mech, "I'm giving you permission to go and see if you find anything there."

"Can do!" Jazz saluted the red and blue mech and scampered off. Orion chuckled as he watched the cultural investigator bolt away; no matter his mood, or anyone else's mood, Jazz immediately brought gaiety and spontaneity into their moods. He remembered the clocks counting down on Jazz's wrist and reaching zero at the exact same time that Prowl, the other lieutenant, came to meet him for the first time.

That had been unexpected.

Though now Jazz seemed to have made Prowl lighten up his restrictions and rules slightly.

He looked back down at the stack of datapads in his arms and found out that he was directly next to his desk. He quickly dropped them on the top and picked the datapad that topped off the pile, which immediately lit up and showed a very familiar picture of a large femme swinging her blade at an unknown enemy.

How did that get there? "What the-"

"'tenant Pax!"

Orion quickly shut off the pad and tossed it to the side. He'd look at it later. He looked up and found a familiar red mech just down the hallway, rushing toward him. "What is happening, Ironhide?"

"Got report of a fight at Maccadam's. They're busting up the entire place."

Everyone else in the room bristled. Maccadam's was a favorite after-work hangout of theirs.

Orion grabbed his stasis cuffs and stashed them away in his subspace. "Let's roll."


	2. The Zeroes Have It

When they reached Maccadam's there was a large mob of Iaconians gathered just outside the front entrance, some brave souls daring to peer inside. From the exterior, the oil house looked just fine, but Orion Pax had seen enough in his lifecycle to know that there was often more than meets the optic. He brought out a pair of stasis cuffs and turned to face the crowd that had gathered. "Leave, now. There is no purpose in you all being here, and you will only hinder our operations."

The gathered Iaconians grumbled, and most left. A few hung around.

::Prowl, take care of them:: Orion Pax told the other lieutenant. The winged mech nodded and whipped out a couple of stasis cuffs from his own subspace as he walked over to the few stragglers. Ironhide followed after, a smirk on his scarred faceplates as he flexed his digits in preparation to haul someone into custody. Orion didn't see much further, as he turned back around and walked into the edifice.

Sure enough, the inside of the building was a wreck. Tables and chairs were flipped over and broken, and smashed cubes and spilled high grade littered the floor. The monitors that were mounted on the walls were ripped from their mounts and shattered; only one survived, but not without damage. A long crack ran across the screen, where it was playing an old rerun episode of a soap opera, _The Optics Have It._

Something about the sparkling's coding not matching their sire's. Then the unmistakable _THWACK _of someone slapping someone else. That was all he heard.

For a brief moment Orion wondered if everyone had died. Then he looked closer at all the damage and saw that there were other bots hiding underneath the wreckage, peering at him with wide optics in varying shades of blue. He was about to kneel down next to the closest bar patron and ask if they could point him to the culprit or culprits of all this, when something suddenly slammed into the wall next to him. Orion jumped back, completely startled, and found a twitching bot at his feet. Optics looked up at him and the bot said something, but they were so overcharged all their speech came out in a slurred manner. A moment after, they fell into recharge, drool coming out of the side of their mouth.

Orion sighed and shook his helm, getting up and looking around, searching for the one that had thrown this drunk bot into the wall. He caught sight of a horde of large looking bots, armor in hues of dark colors, and walked over to them. They were the only ones still standing while the others were cowering to the ground.

The largest bot of the group, colored silver, turned around at the sound of his footfalls nearing them. Orion felt an itch on his wrist but ignored it in favor of addressing this silver mech, who was clearly the leader of the group. "You do realize you will have to pay for the damage you have caused in this establishment."

The silver mech's hazy optics searched for whomever it was that had spoken. He seemed to be thinking there was someone at his height in stature addressing him, as he kept looking around and around, turning on wobbly legs, searching for the one that had spoken to him.

Orion Pax sighed in frustration. He wasn't _that _much shorter than the silver mech. He rubbed circles over his itching wrist and commanded, "I am down here. Look at me"

The second-biggest mech of the group, armor colored mostly in hues of dark green, violet, and red, decided right then and there that it was an excellent time to crash to the floor and go into an inebriated recharge. Their cube smashed and spilled energon on the floor, and fluids dripped out of his open maw. His one optic was half-closed as he made a small noise of contentment.

Glazed over optics finally looked down at him. If Orion hadn't been irritated before, he certainly was now, as the silver mech's scarred lipplates twisted up into a condescending smirk.

"Tiny mech." He leered drunkenly at the law enforcer. "You wouldn't last."

Okay, Orion was now beyond pissed. But the lieutenant gathered his emotions and stored them away for later, to be let out when he and Ultra Magnus would spar in the precinct gymnasium. He hardened his glare on the silver mech. "You and your group are coming with us, _now_."

"Says who?" a mech much smaller than he (the smallest of this group of four, actually) piped up from behind this silver mech. He was clearly also inebriated (then again, who else in this place wasn't, besides the employees?) and he stepped forward, looking Orion Pax up and down and growling. "You wouldn't last a round with any of us."

"I do not have to. This is your first warning of two that I grant. Hold out your servos."

The small black and violet hued mech sneered at him and tried to take another step forward, but the high grade he had been ingesting caught up with him, as he fell flat on his faceplates and began snoring into the floor. Only two mechs left standing. The large silver mech and smaller black and silver mech. The smaller of the two looked apprehensively at Orion before he sighed in frustration and stepped forward, servos extended. Orion hummed in approval as he fastened a pair of stasis cuffs around the wrists of the mech, turning him around so he was facing his back. He looked at the giant silver mech and arched an optic ridge.

"I suggest that you follow your friend's example to avoid any further trouble."

The silver mech was very much inebriated, swaying on his pedes. He stumbled over to Orion Pax, stooping to his level and smirking. The scent of high grade wafted from his faceplates.

"No."

"This is your second and last warning," Orion thinned his lippates, fishing out another pair of stasis cuffs from his subspace. "Servos out. Now."

Surprisingly enough, the mech cooperated. Orion moved forward to place the stasis cuffs on the silver bot's wrists.

Only to feel large clawed servos take a hold of his aft.

In a swift motion he grabbed the energon stun gun that he kept stored in his subspace for incidents such as this (they were many) and placed it at the silver mech's neck, straining to hold him up as the mech twitched and convulsed in his grip.

::Ironhide?:: Orion grunted through the communication link, struggling to hold the silver mech from falling flat to the floor. He slowly lowered himself to sit on the floor, bringing the prisoner down with him and letting him hit the floor from a far shorter height. Orion slumped, venting air and looking around at all the mechs and femmes still hiding underneath broken chairs and tables, and the three forms lying on the floor. The one mech that had cooperated only grumbled and sat down where he was.

::Ya alrigh', Pax?::

::I am fine. But I would greatly appreciate assistance hauling three of our four suspects into booking::

.-.-.

The last thing he remembered was firing a shot at Barricade; the slaghead wouldn't shut his mouth. He had obviously missed his mark, as Barricade kept on yammering about how he should have gotten over his defeat.

Were his processor not aching immensely and were they not behind bars, he would have attempted to shoot the yammer-mouth's faceplates off again.

But he was not eager to spend a century or so behind bars in Iacon for murder. He could barely tolerate the night that was being spent there.

If he were still inebriated he was certain he'd be able to tolerate it, but then a mech and a femme came by and inserted some liquid into their systems that removed their drunkenness, making them fully aware of their surroundings.

"-gonna kill us when we get back to Kaon. Good going Megatronus," Barricade sneered as he sat with his helm on a quiet Lugnut's arm. His yellow optics glared at the gladiator from his place across the cell. "You've just made us the laughing stock of all our gla-"

Lugnut reacted and quickly slapped a wide servo over Barricade's face, muffling that word. Blackout glared at the loudmouth and hissed, "Barricade, you say that word and we'll all be in here longer than we already are."

"Blackout is right, Barricade," Megatronus rumbled lowly, getting to his pedes and stretching his arms. "You would do wise to keep your mouth shut before we are hauled before the pretentious High Council and subjected to forms of torture that will make Kaon seem like a trip to an energon spring and spa."

Barricade glowered at them all, but kept his mouth shut for the rest of the night.

That in itself was a miracle.

Megatronus sighed and leaned against a wall, staring out the bars and at the guards that made sure they didn't escape from the overnight cell.

He was becoming very irritated at the sensation on his right wrist; he placed it on the wall next to him and began running his wrist over it, back and forth, hoping the itch would go away.

It didn't.

.-.-.

"Couldn' find anythin' on the decrease in fightin' matches, 'rion," Orion was startled out of his thoughts as Jazz popped up next to him, seating himself in a chair right next to Orion's desk where he normally sat a witness to a crime to take their report. Orion absentmindedly rubbed at his wrist and frowned down at the in-progress report he was working on.

"No one was willing to divulge any information?"

Jazz crossed a leg over the other and smiled at the lieutenant. The investigator leaned back and replied, "They brought weapons out an' nudged me with them, tellin' me to get outta Kaon in a nanoclick 'fore they took my frame for spare parts 'nd all."

Orion sighed and touched his forehelm with his digits. "Don't go back there, Jazz. I'm not willing to lose our best investigator over this."

"Sure 'bout that?"

"Even if they were indeed willing to lose you, I wouldn't want to lose my bondmate," another voice, extremely calm and even, cut in.

Jazz looked up at the mech standing next to him and smirked, running a digit along one of the wings that protruded out of his mate's back. "Back so soon Prowler?"

Prowl's wing twitched and his optics cast a glance at his mate. Orion couldn't tell if it was a warning glance or something else more intimate. He felt he could live without knowing. The red and blue mech picked up the report he was working on. "Do you have the photo captures of the four that wrecked Maccadam's?"

The white and black armored lieutenant fished a datapad out of the stack that he held in his arms, handing it over to the other lieutenant. Orion took it into his servos and activated the device, finding the capture of the small black and violet mech of the group staring back at him.

"That is Barricade; he is known for starting fights in Kaon."

Orion swiped a digit over the screen of the datapad, coming across the predominantly dark green mech staring at the camera with his single optic. He was clearly still inebriated at the time that the capture had been taken.

"That is Lugnut. One of the biggest mechs in Kaon, and we heard Barricade calling him a myriad of insults such as plod when we were lining them all up. The next one," Prowl continued as Orion moved onto the next photograph, "is Blackout. He is a miner in Kaon, keeps to himself. I never heard him speak."

"He was the only one that cooperated at Maccadam's," Orion stated as he continued on to the last photograph.

The silver mech with barbed armor and a wide chassis stared back at him with confused and unfocused blue optics. He heard Prowl's voice say the name: "Megatronus, another miner in Kaon." Orion thinned his lipplates at the image.

It had to have been a coincidence that the itching on his wrist flared up again. He vented air in frustration and none too gently tossed the datapad onto his desk, scratching at his wrist.

"You alright?"

"No Jazz," Orion half snapped at the cultural investigator, sighing. "I have been plagued with a persistent irritation on my right wrist since we arrived at Maccadam's and it does not seem to go away." The red and blue mech groaned and brought his servo up, pressing his wrist to the surface of his desk in the failed hope that it would relieve some of the irritation.

He didn't notice Jazz and Prowl glance at each other.

"You mentioned it was your right wrist, Orion Pax?"

"_Yes_, Prowl," Orion confirmed, frustration seeping into his voice.

"When was the last time you looked at your timer?"

"My what?"

Jazz opened a set of panels on his own wrist and held it up. Deep red zeroes stared back at him, having been that way for a long while now. Prowl dumped his datapads on his mate's lap and did the same, showing the same set of red zeroes on his wrist.

"When Jazz and I first met and our timers hit zero," Prowl offered, "we became plagued by constant itching because the numbers were blinking. They continued that way until we stopped the timers by touching them, keeping the numbers stationary and ridding us of the irritation."

Orion felt his spark drop and hit the bottom of its casing. He turned his wrist upward and opened the panel that covered it.

Red zeroes flashed insistently at him, blinking on and off.

His face must have become one of shock, because Jazz shoved the datapads back at Prowl and jumped to his pedes, craning his neck to look at his superior's wrist. Jazz smiled brilliantly, laughing as he said, "Our 'rion's got a sparkmate." Behind him, Prowl fixed the datapads in his arms and smiled as well. The investigator slapped the stunned red and blue mech on his back and said, "Who's it?"

Orion closed his optics and thought back to when he arrived at Maccadam's. There was no way in the universe that it could be Prowl, as evidenced by the small investigator coming up on the tips of his pedes and pecking Prowl on his lipplates.

It couldn't be Ironhide; Ratchet was at the medical center just a few buildings away from the law station.

He remembered the crowd that gathered, the mechs and femmes hiding in the wreckage of the oil house. He had felt just fine then, and when he ventured over to the group that caused the ruckus…

…no.

No.

The silver mech. What had Prowl called him? Megatronus?

Did Megatronus have a timer too? Did it blink insistently at him?

"I… I can't remember, Jazz." Orion frowned at his wrist, closing the panel without relieving himself of the itch and sighing. "Unfortunately I was far too focused on my duties to bring the Pit-raisers in to remember whom I saw that set off the timer."

Jazz and Prowl seemed to believe him. He felt their pitying gazes on his backplates.

"You gotta remember somethin', Orion," Jazz said as Prowl walked off. Jazz went to follow his bondmate but before he did so he gently patted the mech's shoulder. "Bein' bonded is… you don' feel complete without it. Think you do… until you meet the one." Jazz smiled sadly at his friend as he walked off.

Orion's optics followed the two white and black mechs, and he cast his glance around the rest of the mechs. His optics settled on Hound and Mirage, sipping energon and looking devotedly into each other's optics. There were rumors that one of them had finally sparked, but they seemed keen on keeping it secret if true.

There was Bumblebee, scurrying by and heading for the captain's office with a stack of datapads in his arms. Bumblebee's sparkmate, Smokescreen, was an Elite Guardsmech for the High Council.

Bumblebee gently banged his shoulder against the door. Ultra Magnus let him in.

Pit, even Ultra Magnus had his own sparkmate; Wheeljack, head of the Special Forces branch of the Iacon Law Enforcement Department. How those two ever managed to tolerate each other… it was a bigger mystery than Prowl and Jazz.

Orion got to his pedes, resisting the urge to scratch at his irritated wrist, and headed for the holding cells in the basement of the building.

.-.-.

His optics followed the yellow and green femme that limped through the doors of the medical center, aided by a white and green femme and a blue and pink mech. He pursued his lipplates, muttering to himself, "That is the sixth patient to come through those doors with smashed energon cubes in their frame."

He walked over to the femme to assist her.

_::Ironhide?::_

_::Stayin' a little overtime Ratch. Had ta respond to fight at Maccadam's that wrecked the place::_

_::I suppose that would explain why I am seeing a large number of mechs and femmes coming into the center during my shift with injuries consistent with a bar fight?::_

_::More than likely, yeah::_

_::How many more should I expect?::_

_::A lot. Trus' me::_

_::You know I do, unless it comes to raising our sons::_

_::Not my fault they're trigger happy an' all!::_

_::It is exactly your fault::_

Ratchet was professional on the outside but he still sent loving pulses to his bondmate, ensuring him that he was only jesting.


	3. Parasites

Orion's processor was set on just one thing he made his way down to the holding cells of the precinct. His servos clenched and unclenched as he descended down the lift, made his way off, and traversed through the corridor. There were others down here, and they made way for him and greeted him, but he did not hear nor did he respond back.

He came to the large door that led to the holding cells. He tapped his employee number into the security pad and was subjected to a frame scan to ensure that, yes, it was indeed him. The security measures seemed to be satisfied, as the door slid open.

He didn't know that the four had been placed in the cell directly across from the doors. They stared at him, and he found himself almost a loss for words as he looked at them with the sternest glare he could muster.

"Are we being let out?" the smallest of the group asked, daring to hope.

Shaking his helm in the negative once, twice, Orion Pax closed his optics and breathed. "Not yet."

His optics may have been closed but he could see them all slump in defeat. He reopened his optics and took a brief moment longer to compose himself. "In the time that has passed since we have brought you in, I have been plagued with a persistent irritation on my right wrist." Before any of the four could react or even ask why it would pertain in the least bit to them, Orion opened up his wrist paneling and showed the flashing zeroes on his timer to the four mechs.

Their optics widened.

"It began when I first laid optics on the four of you as a group. That I am more than certain of." He hardened his gaze on them and dropped his arm to his side. They looked amongst each other, certain fear in his optics. "Show your timers. Now"

The mechs looked warily at him, then amongst each other. The one called Blackout, the seemingly only sensible one of the entire group, went first, removing his wrist panels and showing off his own timer.

The countdown hadn't begun yet. The numbers 99:99:99 stared back at Orion Pax. He nodded, a gesture for Blackout to close the panel. This one had yet to come across his intended.

Blackout looked at the other mechs. The one-optic'd mech and the tiny one of the group, Lugnut and Barricade, looked at each other and begrudgingly opened their own wrist panels.

Both had zeroes. But they were not flashing. Before Orion could ask them anything, Barricade snarled. "The moment this plod," he jabbed Lugnut with his elbow joint, "and I met all those stellar cycles ago our timers reached zero. Don't think you're part of us."

That left…

Orion turned and glared at the large silver mech. Megatronus stared at him with the wide optics of a sparkling that had just been caught taking rust sticks from the kitchen without permission. Orion nodded his helm at the last of the four mechs. "Open it. Now."

Blue optics stared at him for a while longer before the silver mech looked down and sent the command for his wrist panel to open up. He didn't look at it, instead just turning his arm and wrist so the law enforcer could see the timer.

Megatronus kept his optics on the red and blue mech, watching his expression shift from stern to emotionless. He felt his spark drop at the sight.

The other mech gave a curt nod and looked down at his own wrist, touching the screen of the timer. He stayed staring at the numbers on his own timer for a moment before leaving them all alone.

Megatronus sighed and steadied himself for the sight. He looked down at his own wrist.

Zeroes flickered insistently at him.

He touched his digits to the screen and the itching he'd been feeling immediately went away.

.-.-.

Their armor clanged against each other as they sparred in the gymnasium, the mats beneath them bearing imprints of where they had thrown each other to the floor.

Orion Pax had immediately commed Ultra Magnus after leaving the holding cells, asking if he was still up for that sparring match. The turbulent emotions coursing through him needed an outlet, and what better way than a friendly fight with his sparring partner?

Orion blocked a blow from the other blue and red mech, smiling and panting as energon coursed through his frame at a high rate, trying to keep up with the fighting. "Tell me of Maccadam's; will the four instigators be held liable for damages?"

Ultra Magnus withdrew his servo and put his leg forward, tripping Orion Pax up. "They will not. I spoke to the oil house owner just before heading down here. Maccadam is currently in the process of replacing all the broken furniture and he has sent out reparation to those who were there when the fight broke out."

Orion Pax got to his pedes and lunged for Magnus, who stepped aside at the last moment, and wound up falling to the ground once more. "Well," Orion muttered into the mat before he shot back up and faced his captain, "what was his reasoning behind his kindness in letting them all off?"

Magnus held his servos out, making a gesture that said _Come at me. _Orion bounced up and down on his pedes, waiting for a moment to strike and catch the other mech off guard. "He does not want to lose customers. He only holds them liable in the instance that they offline someone."

"Then it is lucky for him that he has obtained so much wealth," Orion replied. A moment later, he lunged again for Magnus. The blue and red mech didn't move out of the way, however, but he did manage to crouch and grab Orion by his middle when he got too close. Orion grunted in pain as Magnus twisted around and flipped him over, threw him flat on his backplates, coughing and looking up at his captain.

"I'm impressed you were able to make a quick comeback, Magnus. That was a powerful throw."

Ultra Magnus stood over him, his lipplates turning up in a half grin. It was a relief to finally see the floor that he stood on. "My systems are still reconfiguring to their original positions. A painful cramp gave me the strength behind that throw." He reached down, offering a servo that Orion took to help himself up.

The lieutenant rubbed at his back strut and smiled. "I've missed our spars. Going the length of your entire carrying cycle without being able to fight and let off energy was not the most pleasant feeling."

"Carrying wasn't exactly a desirable alternative, but I am glad it is now over with. The pain of carriage is gone." Magnus's faceplates suddenly twisted into a pained grimace, and he placed his servos on his knee joints, leaning over and slowly inhaling and exhaling. "Well, mostly." Magnus sighed and straightened up his posture, a servo pressing absentmindedly at his lower midsection. Orion looked and realized that if you knew what you were looking for you could still see a faint curvature to his abdominal plating; it hadn't gone away yet.

He and Magnus headed out of the gymnasium. "Did you and Wheeljack ever agree on a name for her? Last I remember, you and he were snapping at each other in your office over his suggestion of Ironbuster and your suggestion of Sparkflare."

"I didn't care if Wheeljack agreed with my choice. I told him that the day he gives birth will be the day he can name the sparkling whatever he wants. But he did like my final choice for her name: Athena."

Orion's audios perked at the mention of the name. "Athena?"

"Yes. Are you familiar with the tales of Andromeda the Warrior?"

Orion thought back to that stray datapad that was currently tucked away in a drawer at his desk. The large femme wielding her blade, helm thrown back, eyes wide and mouth open in a battle cry. "Andromeda's second-in-command, and her confidant." The thought shifted to an equally large femme wielding cannons and blasters on her frame, rushing into battle just behind her commander.

"Indeed. I held my daughter in my arms with the intent to name her Andromeda, but the name did not seem to fit her. I called her such, and she did not look up at me. The name Athena made way into my processor. I called her Athena, and she looked up into my optics, as if asking what I wanted. It was then I knew that that was her name."

The lieutenant smiled. "Whom does she look like?"

Magnus stopped in his tracks for a brief moment. Orion could tell by the look on his faceplates that he was thinking whether or not to indulge his request. The red and blue mech was about to tell the other mech that he did not need to tell him if he was uncomfortable doing so, but Magnus reached into his subspace and brought out a small datapad. He activated the pad and handed it to Orion.

There was a photo capture. Magnus still in the medical berth, looking exhausted but so _proud _at the little femme he held in his arms. A tiny servo reached for him, but he couldn't see the entirety of the little femme.

"Ultra Magnus, I-"

"There are more image captures."

Orion slid his digit across the screen; the next image showed a very alert sparkling looking at the photographer with wide blue optics, tiny servos curled up and placed next to her helm, tiny mouth open in surprise.

"She looks like you. But she has Wheeljack's optics and fins."

"Indeed. Do not mention this to anyone." Magnus quietly fished the datapad out of his lieutenant's grip. "I have had half the precinct coming into my office and begging to see an image of my daughter. I've also explicitly forbidden Wheeljack from showing off any image captures of her."

"You have my word, Magnus."

Instead of storing the datapad back in his subspace, the blue and red mech held it in his servos, looking down at the screen. Orion saw his lipplates tug upward, smiling.

They reached the big room of the precinct, where everyone had their desks spaced neatly apart to give each other space, and noticed that everyone was crowded in the entryway. Orion looked in confusion at Magnus, about to ask what was going on, before Magnus's optics widened and he stored the datapad back in his subspace.

"Captain Magnus-"

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Pax."

.-.-.

_::I told you I wished to keep her away from my… our workspaces, until she was a bit older::_

_::Couldn't help it. She was getting' bored at home and I thought I'd bring her over::_

_::Wheeljack-::_

_::You said never to show off any pics of her; never said anythin' about not bringin' her in all her beautiful glory::_

Ultra Magnus appeared above everyone else's helms, his signature scowl on his faceplates. He waded through the adoring crowd and came face to face with his mate, narrowing his optics down at him. This time he cleared his vocalizer and spoke, "You should have told me you were coming Wheeljack."

The white armored mech smirked up at his sparkmate and bounced the infant Cybertronian up and down in his arms. She squealed and the fins at the sides of her helm twitched. "Thought it'd be nice to surprise you, Magnus."

Magnus reached for Athena, cradling her against his chassis. She squeaked and chirped, curling into his chassis. Everyone else around them cooed and aww-ed at the little femme.

He saw Hound turn to Mirage with a hopeful expression on his faceplates. "I want one."

Mirage arched an optic ridge and hesitantly patted his mate's helm before shaking his helm in the negative.

Athena chirped loudly and reached for her carrier's helm crest, yanking it. Magnus had to stifle an undignified squawk. He merely grimaced in pain and turned around, heading for his office with Wheeljack trailing behind him. He gave Athena a kiss on her cheekplates and smiled to himself when he heard the disappointed noises of the crowd as he walked away, taking away their distraction.

_::I'm not letting you around them for much longer, Athena. Maybe when you are older. But not now::_

Athena chirped in response, tiny servos patting her carrier's faceplates. She returned the grin.

Orion Pax stood where he had been left at, staring with wide optics at the femme in his captain's arms. Magnus saw the expression on his faceplates and grinned, stroking Athena's helm gently. She chirred and warbled, nuzzling into her carrier's touch and opening and closing her servos.

"Is that-"

"Yes, Orion. This is mine and Wheeljack's daughter, Athena." Magnus looked down at Athena and adjusted his grip on her, as she grunted and tried squirming out of her carrier's grip; she wasn't half a stellar cycle old yet, but she was determined to be independent. Magnus cringed to think of how she would be as she got older.

"She's beautiful sir… may I hold her?"

Wheeljack caught up with Magnus and quickly took Athena from his mate's arms, smiling and handing her over to Orion Pax. Orion held his captain's sparkling in his arms awkwardly, looking down in confusion at the tiny bitlet. She looked up at him, optics wide and just as confused as he was.

_Chirp?_

Orion stared at her, unsure of what to do.

She did know what to do, however; she noticed the crest on this mech's helm. She stared at it intently for a long moment, chirped loudly, and then lunged forward. She reached up, wrapping her tiny digits around it and yanking _hard_.

Orion let out the exact undignified squawk that Magnus had suppressed.

.-.-.

"Have you done what we have asked?"

"Not yet." The figure leaned back in his chair and cast a sly smirk at the two mechs before him. "I charge high prices, and last I checked you haven't even come _close_ to giving me my askin' price."

A loud snarl. A fist banged on the tabletop, but it did nothing to deter the mech in the chair. He only looked down at the balled up servo with a bored expression before looking the mechs back in their optics.

The two standing mechs looked at each other for a brief moment before the other one that hadn't slammed his fist on the table sighed. "When would you like your funds, and how soon after the transfer can you attempt it?"

"Thirty million credits. Give 'em to me by tomorrow, I'll have it done by the end of the stellar cycle."

"The stellar cycle?! That is far too long!"

"You wanted the best, and I am the best around. And I work at my own pace. Don't like being told what to do and when." The mech stood to his pedes and winked at the two mechs before striding out of the room. Before he completely exited, he called over his shoulder, "Don't wait too long. I know how much getting rid of all those parasites mean to you."

.-.-.

**Due to events that have transpired on this website recently, I will no longer be updating/uploading fanfictions here. I will keep all previous fanfictions up so you may enjoy them; they will only be removed if the moderators of this website decide to finally enforce their "no porn" policy and take my stories down.**

**From now on, I will be updating/uploading at ArchiveofOurOwn. I have transferred all my fanfictions to ArchiveofOurOwn so should the stories be removed from here, you may still find them there. You may find a link to my AO3 account on my profile.**


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